


Everything's Your Colour

by ThatAloneOne



Series: Tumblr Fics [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAloneOne/pseuds/ThatAloneOne
Summary: Collection of Clizzy minific prompts from Tumblr.





	1. Clary draws Isabelle

Clary always spent her time scribbling away in her sketchbook. Half the time, Isabelle could never figure out what it was. Sometimes it was monsters, or landscapes, or sometimes even Jace. Isabelle disliked when it was Jace, though she didn’t examine why too closely.

Today, Clary was being unusually cagey about it, tilting the page away whenever Isabelle tried to get a look. The Institute was buzzing with people for once, but Clary didn’t take notice of all the staring, engrossed in her art. Isabelle wished she could be doing the same. 

She got swept up in a conversation with a visiting Parabatai group, passing by on their way to Los Angeles. By the time she’d managed to smooth out their travel arrangements, Clary had disappeared. Isabelle tried not to frown, leaning back on her desk. 

Something crinkled under her hand, and she looked down. It was heavy paper, obviously from Clary’s sketchbook. Her own likeness stared back up at her, hand outstretched. She recognized the hallway sketched in light lines around her — from where they’d talked about their mothers. It had been the first time Clary had really smiled at her.

If Clary was remembering right, and she probably was, then Isabelle was more transparent than she meant to be. In the drawing, that Isabelle looked utterly smitten.

And maybe she didn’t mind. 


	2. Isabelle tries cooking

“You said soup,” Clary said, and poked the mass with her foot. “I really don’t think this is soup.”

Isabelle stared at the stacks of ingredients on the counter, then back at the calcified spilled… something. “I intended it to be soup?“

Before Isabelle could react, Clary snatched the electrum whip from the counter and snapped it at the soup. It bounced right off. Clary sighed. “We’re ordering out. For the rest of our lives.”


	3. Partners in Crime AU

Clary fumbled with her mittens at the counter, the teller staring blankly at her. The line was long and the hour was late, and Clary knew all she wanted was to go home early. Clary was happy to oblige. 

With her hands came a gun, and Clary shot it into the air. The chandelier exploded, raining the bank in chips of plaster and plastic gems. “This is a robbery! Throw your wallets on the floor!”

People obliged with only a minimum of screaming, and the tellers handed over the contents of their drawers. Everything was going exactly to-

“POLICE!”

The bank had a new customer, a tall woman in killer heels, her dark hair expertly pinned. Clary could  _feel_ their collective sigh of relief. Isabelle trained her own gun on Clary. “Down. Now.”

Clary sighed and kicked the gun over, ignoring the curve of Izzy’s scarlet lips. Isabelle cuffed her, then walked among the bank’s customers, gathering their scattered belongings and soothing their shattered nerves. Clary stood where she was, trying to look irritated, the cuffs cold against her wrists. 

And then, it was time. The cuffs clattered easily to the floor and Isabelle brandished her now two guns, clearing them a path to the door. The teller Clary had been dealing with fainted. “Sorry,” Isabelle drawled. “I lied.”

And then she kissed Clary in the doorway, leaving the bank flabbergasted and considerably lighter in the vaults.


	4. Fake Relationship AU

“So I just… hold your hand?”

Isabelle reached out and took it, and it was even more exhilarating when it was casual, and small, and they were alone. “If that’s all you want.”

Clary wanted a thousand times more than that, but this wasn’t about her. This was about Isabelle, and Alec, and the Lightwoods. If Maryse wouldn’t accept Alec, than Isabelle refused to let him be the only one. “I- sure.”

Isabelle tightened her grip, and they both looked at the doors. “You ready?”

No, Clary thought, but she put on her best smile. “Yes.”

Holding hands felt like more of a dangerous thing than battling demons had. 


	5. Training

“Really?” Isabelle said, and spun the stick lazily in her hand. Clary had yet to figure out how many things her bracelet could turn into, but it was fascinating to watch it transform time and time again. The snake’s head glinted, and for a moment Clary didn’t regret this training session at all. It would make for some great sketches. “You’ve never been in a real battle against a demon before. I bet you couldn’t handle a single pun-”

Clary punched her. Hard and fast, just like Izzy had been trying to tell her, thumb not tucked in. She hadn’t expected it to hit but it  _did_ , with a fleshy  _whack_  that sent Isabelle stumbling back a couple feet, hand to her cheek. 

“Sorry!” Clary squeaked, but Isabelle just shook it off, like a seal shook off water, and grinned. Suddenly, more than anything, Izzy looked  _hungry_.

“Again.”


	6. Christmas

“Thank you for letting me celebrate with you guys,” Clary said, and tried not to have a heart attack when Isabelle looked over at her, eyes warm. 

“It’s no problem, Clary,” Isabelle said, and slung a casual arm over Clary’s shoulder. The Christmas tree was dazzling, through no small amount of effort. They’d even managed to hang less than five weapons on the tree, which Isabelle assured her was a new record. A new, low record. “I’m glad you came by.”

Clary very, very carefully didn’t look at the mistletoe hanging over the stairs. “Me too.”


	7. Christmas without Jocelyn

Isabelle found her in one of the old training rooms, sitting on the floor by the window and sketching. Clary felt her presence long before Isabelle admitted to it, but she didn’t mind. She kept her eyes on the horizon, the glittering Christmas lights on all the buildings. 

The Institute wasn’t particularly decked out for Christmas, but Clary had seen more than one tuft of mistletoe. Shadowhunters were into the holiday for at least one reason. 

“Is this the first Christmas you’ve celebrated with your mom, isn’t it?”

Clary sighed, setting her sketchbook down on her lap. Isabelle waited for an inviting gesture before settling herself down on the ground beside Clary. Clary wondered if she was bothered by the cold marble, or if she was used to it. “Yeah. It’s… weird.”

Isabelle leaned in, resting her head on Clary’s shoulder, ignoring the way Clary stiffened. “I’m sorry. At least you have us?”

“Yeah,” Clary said softly, and relaxed. “Yeah. Thanks.”

If she had Isabelle, she could get through anything. 


	8. Mistletoe

Clary knew she was doomed the moment she walked in. Her girlfriend had that wicked look in her eyes, the one she always had when there was an opportunity to scandalize her mother. 

Isabelle drew up to Clary, making far more contact than she ordinarily would when they were in the Institute. “Clary.” Her smiled widened, and Clary narrowed her eyes at her. What was she up to? “Merry Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Clary said, because it was November, and then she looked up. Mistletoe. “Please, please, please ignore that mistletoe.  _Everyone_  is here!”

“That’s the point,” Isabelle said, and leaned in. Clary didn’t complain after that. 


	9. Pretending Not To Date AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're pretending to be siblings for a mission, for anyone who might be bothered by that.

It was when the third neighbour came over with a casserole that Clary realized she might be in a bit of trouble. 

She had agreed to pretend to date Alec when they were dealing with the warlock from the literal fifteen hundreds, but she hadn’t expected the experience to be dragged on for this long. It had seemed simple,  _too_ simple. She would go on a quick vacation with Izzy, pretend not to be dating for a day or two in a rented apartment. She had pretended to not be dating her for a while back at the Institute, after all. How hard could it be?

That was before she saw the fake lease Alec had helpfully left on the table. 

“You’re such good friends!” Mrs Hanover said, and her smile was stretched tight. She looked like she wanted to clap their faces together and get it over with. Clary had long since heard her ramble about her son and his boyfriend, and she seemed determined to not put up with any latent tension, however much not-her-business it was. 

The words were difficult to get out, for a multitude of reasons. “Um, sisters, actually.”

There was a pause. Mrs. Hanover looked between Isabelle and Clary one last time, barely missing the wink Izzy threw her girlfriend, and went pale. “…oh,” she said faintly. “I thought, ah…”

Clary smiled tightly. “Different father.”

The mention of shared genetics only seemed to make it worse. Mrs. Hanover didn’t even bother with goodbyes, limply waving as she fled for the door. She left the casserole behind, at least. Clary hadn’t accounted for having to eat for more than two days. 

Isabelle wrapped her arms around Clary, and Clary leant back into her girlfriend’s warmth. “This may not have been the best idea.”


	10. Musical AU

Clary had never watched High School Musical when she was little. Ever since she’d bawled during Cinderella at two, her mother had banned Disney from the house. Most of the time it left Clary feeling disconnected but this time… well, if she’d watched High School Musical, she would have been smart enough to not be as  _connected_  as she was today. 

“Are you ready to know what your part is?” Isabelle said. She jostled Clary’s side. She was the sort of gorgeous that would go places — movies, probably. She was the one who  _actually_  wanted to be in this ridiculous play. “You sang so well!”

Clary wanted to complain about having her voice tattled on, but Izzy looked far too excited. She sighed. “Sure. I hope I get Peasant #3.” That, at least, would leave time for the sets. 

Then Clary saw the sheet, and she nearly fainted. She would be playing Romeo — right across from Isabelle’s Juliette. 


	11. Blind Date KissCam AU

Going on a blind date when bi was a little like gambling. Clary didn’t know anything about them, other than their initials — IL — and that they’d be in the seat beside her at the game. 

She didn’t usually go to any sort of sports events, but there’d been a little pool at work. All the other animators had teamed up to find her the perfect person, and they figured a game was the best way to trap them together. Adrenaline. Fries. Probably some sort of field and ball. What could go wrong?

As Simon had so eloquently put it, after an energizing summer being the Lothario at archery camp: “instead of having just one half of the world or the other as potential, you have everyone! Everyone is potential!”

Clary fought her way through the crowd to her assigned seat. She only got whacked by five noise makers, which by the looks of things was a stroke of luck. They were giving them away, not selling them. Even the children to small to blow them up themselves had a handful. 

She hadn’t snuck in a water bottle, because they would have caught her at it, but she had snuck in a cap. They sold them without, at the games. To tell who had brought them and who had bought them. It was a ridiculous idea. They just wanted her to spill her drink so she’d have to buy another one. 

Clary wasn’t going to be dehydrated via capitalism in the first date with her “soulmate”. She bent to screw the lid on, keeping half an eye on the KissCam. She had been caught on the thing with her foster brother Jace the last time she’d been coaxed into attending a game, and it was a singularly unpleasant experience. 

“Hello,” a woman’s voice said, and Clary spilled her precious water. She straightened, her feet sopping, and behold the most beautiful person Clary had ever laid eyes on. She was the sort of striking that begged to be immortalized in art. Oils, Not watercolours. The kind of painting that lasted centuries. “You must be C?”

Clary nodded. “Clary?” It came out as a question. She blamed it on her wet feet. 

“Isabelle,” she said, and the crowd roared. Clary glanced back at the KissCam, somehow not surprised to see her luck had summoned it. Her hair looked like fire on the big screen, next to Isabelle’s shining blue blouse.

“It’s nice to meet you, Clary.” Isabelle's lips curved, a biting sort of smile. She placed a gentle hand on Clary’s arm, and it burned. “Would you like to-”

Clary answered by leaning in. It felt like a fairy tale, pounding noisemakers and wet feet and all.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me and request more fics at writerproblem193.tumblr.com!


End file.
